CHAPTER 28: POSSESSIVENESS IS A LOVE LANGUAGE, RIGHT?

Natalia slammed her bedroom door, shutting out the rest of the world. She tore off her jacket and flung it across the room, watching it sail over her desk and crumple against the wall. The pressure in her chest refused to dissipate.

She kicked off her shoes next, sending them skittering across the hardwood floor. One hit her nightstand with a thud, knocking over a framed photo. Natalia ignored it, pacing the length of her room like a caged animal.

"Stupid," she muttered, running her fingers through her long purple hair. "So stupid."

Her reflection caught her eye as she passed her full-length mirror. She stopped, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She looked fevered. Unhinged. She hardly recognized herself.

What was happening to her? When had everything become so complicated?

An hour ago, she’d been seething with anger. Now she just felt hollow, scraped raw from the inside out. The memory of Emi and Satori laughing together played on repeat in her mind. The way Emi had touched his arm. The way he’d smiled at her.

Natalia dropped onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. It wasn’t even about Emi, not really. Emi flirted with everyone. She was naturally affectionate, bubbly, free with her emotions in a way Natalia had never managed to be.

No, this was about Satori. About the fact that other people were noticing him now. About the fact that Emi—beautiful, kind Emi with her perfect curves and sunny smile—was noticing him.

The thought made her stomach twist painfully.

Natalia rolled onto her back, staring at her ceiling. The Cryo-Lich Ring on her finger pulsed softly, responding to her agitated emotional state. Its cold blue light cast dancing shadows across her walls.

"Get a grip," she told herself, flexing her fingers and watching the ring’s glow stabilize. "He’s your stepbrother."

Natalia sat up abruptly, shaking her head to dispel the memory of those strong fingers kneading her back. She couldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t.

She pushed herself off the bed and walked to her bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. The shock of it helped clear her mind, if only for a moment. She stared at her dripping reflection.

"This is ridiculous," she told herself firmly. "You’re Natalia Kuzmina. You don’t get jealous over boys."

Especially not this boy. Not Satori.

But the hollow feeling persisted, a gnawing emptiness that demanded to be filled. And beneath it, something hot and insistent burned—a need to reclaim what was hers.

Because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? Satori was hers. He was her stepbrother, her training partner, her... whatever this new relationship was becoming. She’d watched him transform himself. She’d fought beside him. She’d trusted him with her body when it betrayed her.

And now Emi was looking at him like he was some kind of prize to be won.

The thought propelled Natalia out of her bathroom and toward her bedroom door. She hesitated with her hand on the knob, suddenly uncertain. What was she even planning to do?

Through the door, she could hear the muffled sounds of the television. Satori was still up, probably watching one of those Hunter documentaries he’d become obsessed with lately.

Natalia took a deep breath, steadying herself. Then she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

The living room was dimly lit, the main source of illumination coming from the television screen. Satori sat on the couch, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the flickering light. He’d changed into a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, his damp hair suggesting he’d showered after they got home.

Natalia approached quietly, her bare feet silent on the floor. A documentary about S-Rank Hunters played on the screen, showing footage of a massive Gate breach in some foreign country. Satori was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, completely absorbed.

She paused a few feet behind the couch, suddenly unsure. What was she doing? What was she going to say?

As if sensing her presence, Satori turned his head slightly, acknowledging her without fully looking away from the screen.

"Hey," he said, his voice casual. "Can’t sleep?"

"Something like that," Natalia replied, moving closer to the couch.

On screen, an S-Rank Hunter with glowing golden armor was single-handedly holding back a horde of Abyssal creatures. The camera panned to show civilians evacuating behind him.

"Is this the Shibuya incident?"

"Yeah. They just released the full footage last week."

Natalia circled around the couch, intending to sit on the opposite end, but found herself stopping behind where Satori sat. From this angle, she could see the strong line of his neck, the way his shoulders bunched beneath his shirt.

He’d been spotting her all day during training. Hours of maintaining a ready position, arms extended, prepared to catch her if her control slipped. That kind of work took a toll.

"You looked tense today," she said, her voice coming out lower than she’d intended. "All that spotting... your shoulders must be tight."

Satori turned, looking up at her with slight surprise. "I’m fine. Used to it by now."

But he wasn’t fine. Natalia could see the subtle stiffness in his movements, the way he held himself. Before she could second-guess herself, she reached out, her fingers pressing into the hard muscle of his traps.

She felt him stiffen under her touch, then gradually relax as she worked her thumbs in small circles, mimicking the techniques he’d used on her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"You helped me," she answered, her other hand coming to rest on his opposite shoulder, effectively caging him from behind. "It’s only fair I return the favor."

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, there and gone so quickly she almost missed it.

"I don’t remember asking for help," he said, but he made no move to pull away.

Natalia increased the pressure, digging her thumbs into a particularly tight knot at the base of his neck. He exhaled sharply, his head dropping forward slightly.

"You didn’t have to ask," she murmured, leaning closer. "I know what overworked muscles feel like."

His skin was warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. She could feel the solid mass of him, so different from the soft, doughy body he’d had just weeks ago. This new Satori was all hard planes and firm muscle, his body transforming as rapidly as his personality.

"How does it feel?" she asked, working her way up the sides of his neck.

"Good," he admitted, his voice rougher than before. "You have strong hands."

"A telekinetic needs strong hands," she replied. "It’s all about control."

She moved her fingers to the base of his skull, applying gentle pressure, and was rewarded with a small groan. The sound sent an unexpected jolt through her body, settling low in her stomach.

"Where did you learn this?" Satori asked, tilting his head to give her better access.

"My father made me take physical therapy courses. Said a Hunter should understand their body as well as their Aspect." Her thumbs traced the line where his hairline met his neck. "Plus, I watched what you did yesterday."

She felt him chuckle, the sound vibrating through her fingertips. "Quick learner."

"Always."

Natalia continued working on his shoulders, the documentary forgotten in the background. She was hyperaware of their position—her standing behind the couch, him seated, her arms creating a cage around him. There was something possessive about it, something that satisfied the hollow ache in her chest.

Mine. Not Emi’s. Mine.

The thought should have horrified her. Instead, it sent another thrill racing through her veins.

"I didn’t thank you properly," she said suddenly. "For spotting me today."

Satori was silent for a moment. Then, "You don’t need to thank me. We’re partners, right?"

Partners. The word hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning.

"Right," she agreed softly. "Partners."

Her hands stilled on his shoulders, but she didn’t remove them. They stayed like that, suspended in a moment that felt charged with possibility.

Slowly, deliberately, Satori reached up and covered one of her hands with his own. His palm was warm, slightly calloused from his recent training. He didn’t pull her away. Instead, he simply held her there, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that made her breath catch.

"Natalia," he said, his voice low and intimate in the dim room.

"Yes?"

He turned his head, looking up at her over his shoulder. His eyes caught the light from the television, gleaming with something that made her heart rate spike.

"Is this really about my shoulders?"

The directness of the question caught her off guard. Natalia opened her mouth to deny it, to offer some plausible excuse, but the words died on her tongue. Instead, she found herself asking, "What do you think it’s about?"

Satori shifted, turning more fully to face her while remaining seated. The movement brought them closer together, her hands now resting on his upper chest. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable but his eyes intense.

"I think," he said slowly, "that you’re trying to figure something out."

"And what would that be?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Why you can’t stop thinking about me."

The audacity of the statement should have infuriated her. Two months ago, she would have slapped him for such presumption. Now, she found herself frozen, unable to deny the truth in his words.

"That’s ridiculous," she managed, but there was no conviction in her voice.

"Is it?" His hand moved from hers, tracing a path up her arm that left goosebumps in its wake. "Because you’ve been watching me for weeks. Following my progress. Helping me train. And now this."

His fingers reached her shoulder, then continued their journey to the side of her neck. Natalia knew she should pull away. She knew this was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed.

She didn’t move.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said weakly.

Satori’s mouth curved in a smile that was equal parts triumph and desire. "Yes, you do."

His hand cupped the back of her neck, applying the gentlest pressure. An invitation, not a demand. Natalia could break away at any moment. They both knew it.

Instead, she found herself leaning down, drawn by a force as powerful and inexorable as gravity itself.

Their faces were inches apart now. She could feel his breath on her lips, see the flecks of gold in his irises. This close, there was no hiding the hunger in his gaze—a hunger that mirrored her own.

"Satori," she whispered, his name both a question and a plea.

"Yes?" His voice was thick with anticipation.

"This is a mistake."

He nodded, his fingers threading through the hair at the nape of her neck. "Probably."

"We shouldn’t."

"Definitely not."

"If our parents found out..."

"They won’t."

His confidence should have annoyed her. Instead, it sent another wave of heat coursing through her body. This new Satori, with his unwavering self-assurance and knowing eyes, was magnetic in a way she couldn’t resist.

"Last chance," he murmured, giving her one final opportunity to retreat.

Natalia made her choice. She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was both an admission and a declaration.

Mine, her heart pounded as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

Mine, mine, mine.